


Birthday

by korik



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Bad Parenting, Dysfunctional Family, Dysfunctional Relationships, Gen, Headcanon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-07 03:44:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3159941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/korik/pseuds/korik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The meaning, the idea of joy is lost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birthday

A day to celebrate the forceful, screaming, perhaps disheartening and sometimes terrifying, bloodied expulsion from the body of another being wherein you, as yourself, before you ever knew yourself (following the train of thought of some) or even bothered to explain, decided your time being a parasite was over. That the near house arrest you placed your mother under had now satisfied whatever itch you were scratching.

No. He’s not _bitter_. That would be too akin to the truth. It is easier to say he doesn’t _care_.

Days to celebrate his conception, his newness into the world were brittle, fragile things that when broken dug themselves into the hands and feet of those who would find it, find _him,_ most inconvenient. That is all it was. An inconvenient reminder upon the calender of others that they were under attack, and soon would be at war with a feeble little thing that could not even raise his head, could not even say his name in a way that was recognized, black eyes barely seen through swollen eyelids, fingers unable to uncurl and body _so cold_ now that it had no home.

But he doesn’t remember those days - what he does remember are birthdays when he is to be recognized, displayed for a moment as a sign of solidarity, that House Solidor still clings to the old ways and still endorses the unity and strength that made it an infamous name to behold.

As his eyes turn from nigh black to the palest of white-blues as though absorbing mountain air and snow, feet getting too big for the slippers his surrogate parents, the monks, have given him and patiently restitch when he sees fit to tear them again, he _understands_ he is unwelcome. He understands his Firstmother turns away and thins her lips and opens her mouth like she wants to bite him. He understands his father holds him for a few moments and then sighs as though he is suffocating. He understands Adelaid, Lamont, that they argue and it is _about him_ because he is _wrong_ and _should not be_ and _father is a foolish man, cavorting with a ser_ _vant he made Secondwife?_ He understands he is like his sisters, annoying like a bit of scab that won’t go away as the time for healing is almost complete, and yet with impatience they are picked at again and again, and the wound grows larger and larger, corrupting the very bones with a blackened rot. He understands his mother is _angry_ and she screams at Gramis when her lips are tightly shut, she screams at her image in a mirror when all the windows are locked and the guards are posted at their door.

He understands this is what his birthdays are like, and it is because it’s his fault.


End file.
